


come to me wild and wired

by disgruntledkittenface



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: American AU, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Girl Direction, gratuitous Schitt's Creek references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 11:44:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21074351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgruntledkittenface/pseuds/disgruntledkittenface
Summary: “Baby,” she whispers, running a hand soothingly up and down Harry’s arm. “Come on, you have to get ready for bed.”“Don’t wanna,” Harry manages with a frown, knitting her eyebrows together. “’M too tired, Lou, lemme sleep.”Harry tries to bat her away, but she’s as weak as a kitten this tired, so Louis continues stroking her arm as she considers her options. She could leave Harry be, let her sleep in her makeup. But unlike some people (like Louis herself), Harry takes her skincare seriously. When she was young, her now seemingly flawless skin was prone to breakouts. Harry’s made a lot of effort to figure out which products work for her and nail down a routine that includes regular Korean face masks. Harry insists her rules of skincare are simple and Louis knows they’re finite.Rule number one? Always take off your makeup before going to bed.





	come to me wild and wired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeah_alright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeah_alright/gifts).

> HAPPY (early) BIRTHDAY GELLZ!!!! My cup runneth over with domestic fluff and porn for you. I hope this in some small way demonstrates how glad I am to have you in my life and in my corner, making things fun and providing safe spaces. You are, in the immortal words of Patrick Brewer, David Rose and the one and only Tina Turner, simply the best and THAT is October 19th.
> 
> Thank you [ YesIsAWorld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YesIsAWorld/pseuds/YesIsAWorld) for betaing (and GETTING IT) <3

“Lou! Louis! Lou-bear!  _ Lou!” _

Louis shakes her head as the sound of her girlfriend calling for her gets louder and more urgent. She’d shooed Harry into the living room after dinner, tucking her in on the couch with a blanket and a glass of chardonnay, determined not to let her help with the dishes. Harry does all the cooking, thank god; if Louis were left to her own devices, she would probably starve. Or get scurvy. Louis has to pull her weight somehow and she can’t deal with the drudgery of vacuuming or cleaning the bathroom unless they’re having people over. So washing and drying dishes, it is. Or it should be, Harry tries to weasel her way in most nights, hip checking Louis away from the sink and proclaiming she  _ has a system. _

But not tonight.

Between a work trip last weekend and staying late most nights this week, Harry must be exhausted. And she  _ still _ managed to cook their dinner from scratch. That calls for a banishment to the couch while Louis finishes drying the last of the dishes, a colorful coffee mug with the word BIFURIOUS on either side. Harry’s favorite. 

“Louis, you’re  _ missing _ it!”

“Missing what, babe?” Louis calls over her shoulder, setting the mug on the shelf and turning to the fridge. She grabs the bottle of chardonnay (“unoaked, Lou, you know it’s the only thing I’m pretentious about!”) and a can of Stella for herself before following the sounds of her girlfriend’s annoyed little huffs to the couch.

“Patrick, Lou!” Harry says, pointing her finger at the episode of  _ Schitt’s Creek _ on the TV. She holds out her glass for Louis to refill, eyes on the screen as she clutches her chest with her other hand. “Shh, he’s singing.”

Harry is entranced by the scene, just like she is every time she rewatches this episode, so she doesn’t notice Louis’ less than subtle efforts to steal some blanket away as she settles on the couch next to her. It’s not like Harry really needs it for warmth anyway, she’s like a furnace. Louis’ own personal furnace, she thinks as she tucks her toes underneath Harry’s bare thigh. She forgets to watch the show, taking in the picture next to her instead. 

The dark pink of the flannel shirt Harry had changed into when she got home contrasts with the miles of creamy skin now on display as Louis nabs the rest of the blanket just to see if she can. Harry being Harry, she’d left about half the buttons undone and the tips of the swallow tattoos on her chest are peeking out to say hi. Louis stifles the urge to disrupt the episode Harry’s watching by tracing them with fingertips, lifting her eyes to Harry’s face. 

Her lips are fuller than Louis’ and naturally a dark pink to match her shirt. Louis might be a little obsessed with them. Not just kissing them – or, if the mood strikes, biting – but cataloguing the different ways they curl up into a smile, the way she presses them together when she’s displeased, or the way they go slack when she’s being pleased. Harry’s bottom lip trembles as the sound from the TV informs Louis that Patrick has finished singing and, sure enough, when Louis looks up, Harry’s eyes are suspiciously shiny. Louis can’t quite make out the little gold flecks in the green. 

She can make out at least three different tones in Harry’s long brunette curls, though, probably due to the amount of time they’d spent outside this summer, from hiking trips to boozy afternoons in the park. The curls are calling out to Louis, so she starts gingerly running her fingers through Harry’s hair just as she can’t help the tears in her eyes from spilling over. A soft chuckle escapes her as Harry rubs at her eyes, smearing mascara on her eyelids. 

“Hey,” Harry pouts ridiculously, turning to Louis at last. “You can’t laugh at me during open mic night, it’s sacred. We  _ agreed, _ Lou.”

Louis holds a hand up in surrender at Harry’s scandalized tone. “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just you’re so  _ cute, _ I can’t help it.”

Harry preens at that, sitting up straighter as the grumpy downturn of her mouth immediately lifts to a small, knowing smile. 

“Well, then,” she sniffs, turning back to the screen. “I guess that’s okay.”

Harry takes Louis’ hand and arranges her arm around her shoulders, snuggling into her side, and they watch the rest of the episode, and the one after that. It’s the exact kind of cozy Friday night in they both needed, the perfect way to wind down after a long week. Louis resumes playing with Harry’s curls, scratching lightly at her scalp when Harry leans into the touch like a cat. Her eyes keep drifting to Harry’s long legs, stretched out in front of them as she props her feet up on the coffee table, but she doesn’t think Harry will be up for much more than cuddling tonight what with the way she keeps yawning. 

It’s when Harry misses David’s hesitant yet somehow forthcoming “I think you’re my best friend,” declaration to Stevie because she’s yawning and rubbing her eyes that Louis decides it’s time for bed. 

“Okay, baby,” she says, gently tugging Harry to sit up. “Up, up, up. Time for bed.”

This is usually when Harry protests and insists on just one more episode, but tonight she just nods, rubbing her eyes again and making even more of a mess of her mascara. Louis bites back a smile at the raccoon eyes Harry is currently rocking and stands, pulling Harry up with her.

“Go on,” she murmurs, brushing a lock of hair off Harry’s face. “Get ready for bed, I’ll lock up.”

“Thanks, Lou,” Harry murmurs back, resting her forehead against Louis’ for a moment and swaying on her feet. “Mm, so tired.”

“Go, go,” Louis laughs, turning Harry and patting her bum to get her in gear. It works, Harry stumbles through the living room to the hallway, stretching her arms over her head.

Louis bites her lip again as she watches her go, the flannel shirt lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above Harry’s plain black underwear. Sensible, workday underwear that still manages to be sexy, hugging Harry’s small but round ass. She still can’t quite compete with Louis’ own god-given assets, but her workouts are definitely paying off. 

It’s starting to get dark out earlier now that summer has officially slipped into fall, and it’s pitch black outside as Louis clears the coffee table, gathering the empty wine glass and bottle and her beer cans to take into the kitchen. She walks around their small apartment, making sure the door is locked and the oven is off as she turns off the lights. It feels later than it is, it can’t be much past 10:00 but as Louis heads to the bedroom at the end of the hall, she could swear it was the dead of night.

The overhead light in their room is off, but Harry’s switched on the lamps on their bedside tables and the room is washed in a soft, cozy glow. Louis stops in the doorway when she catches sight of Harry on the bed, propped up by pillows and still wearing her flannel and smeared raccoon eyes. 

“Baby?” 

Harry startles and it’s only then that Louis realizes she had drifted off to sleep. Louis shakes her head as she crosses the room to sit by her side on the mattress, so fond of this girl that her body can barely contain it.

“Baby,” she whispers, running a hand soothingly up and down Harry’s arm. “Come on, you have to get ready for bed.”

“Don’t wanna,” Harry manages with a frown, knitting her eyebrows together. “’M too tired, Lou, lemme sleep.”

Harry tries to bat her away, but she’s as weak as a kitten this tired, so Louis continues stroking her arm as she considers her options. She could leave Harry be, let her sleep in her makeup. But unlike some people (like Louis herself), Harry takes her skincare seriously. When she was young, her now seemingly flawless skin was prone to breakouts. Harry’s made a lot of effort to figure out which products work for her and nail down a routine that includes regular Korean face masks. Harry insists her rules of skincare are simple and Louis knows they’re finite. 

Rule number one? Always take off your makeup before going to bed.

Louis could leave her be. But she knows she shouldn’t. So with a quick kiss to Harry’s nose that makes her scrunch it adorably, Louis gets up and heads into their bathroom. The counter on the left side of the sink, Louis’ side, is practically bare; all of her products fit in the tiny cabinet behind the mirror. It stands in stark contrast to Harry’s side, which is filled with tubes and bottles that Louis knows are carefully organized. She just doesn’t know Harry’s system. 

Crouching down to read labels, Louis goes row by row, figuring one of these containers should have the words “makeup remover” on it somewhere. There are a few serums and creams that proclaim to be for nighttime, but they seem to be more for moisturizing, so Louis keeps moving. When she reaches a couple of bottles of toner, she thinks she’s getting closer, sure that she’s half listened to Harry ramble about the importance of using toner between steps in her routine before bedtime. A night like tonight calls for the bare essentials, though, Louis’ not hauling all of this to the bedroom. She just needs something to...

“Aha!” Louis crows aloud, plucking a small jar from the counter and straightening up. Very Cherry Clean Makeup Meltaway Cleansing Balm. Louis remembers how pleased Harry had been when she’d stumbled across it at Sephora, buying it solely for how gay the name was. This is exactly what Louis needs. 

Now if she only knew how to use it. 

The instructions on the label are pretty self explanatory, but Louis still pulls YouTube up on her phone just to make sure she understands what she’s doing before she smears this goop all over her half-asleep girlfriend’s face. After grabbing a few tissues from the box Harry had placed on Louis’ half of the counter, she makes her way back to Harry’s side of the bed, setting her supplies on the bedside table and caressing Harry’s arm.

“Baby,” she whispers, “come on, sit up.”

The noise Harry makes isn’t exactly rude, but it is disgruntled. She lets Louis tug her by the arms, though, eventually scooting back in bed so that she’s sitting up against the pillows by the headboard. Pouting. 

“Lou,” she slurs, eyes closed. “What’re you doing? ’M so tired.”

“I’m just gonna take off your makeup, baby,” Louis explains gently, slipping the hair tie that Harry always wears around her wrist off and gathering her hair into a clumsy bun. “Don’t want you to sleep in it.”

“Lou,” Harry breathes, slowly blinking her eyes open. 

And Louis doesn’t tell many people this, but she fucking lives for the look on Harry’s face. The eyebrows lifted in wonder, the bright eyes, the parted lips curving into a smile that’s somehow still bashful after all these years. The one that means Harry feels just as lucky to have found her as she feels to have found Harry. Every time she earns that look, Louis can’t help puffing her chest with pride as her heart simultaneously melts and races within it. If she let herself tell many people that, she’d probably never stop, so instead she limits herself to telling Harry she loves her, oh, about a hundred times a day.

“I love you,” Louis says, the words spilling out on their accord. “So much, baby. I love you so much, it’s stupid.”

Harry giggles, reaching a hand out to tickle her side, but Louis’ too quick for her, scooting out of range. She picks up the jar of makeup remover and turns back to face Harry.

“Ready?” she asks, twisting the lid.

“Ready,” Harry says seriously, closing her eyes. 

“Okay, let me just…” Louis mumbles as she takes the small spoon thingy out of the jar and considers how to actually do this. There’s really only one option. She stands and climbs on the bed, swinging a leg over Harry’s body and settling gingerly in her lap. 

Harry’s eyes fly open and suddenly she looks much more awake. “Lou?”

“Close your eyes, baby,” Louis instructs her, dipping the spoon into the jar. “Wait, fuck, do I use this thingy on your face?”

“You can put the balm on your fingers,” Harry says, resting her hands on Louis’ waist, her long fingers stretched toward the curve of her ass. “Then apply it to my skin.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, yeah,” Louis mutters more to herself than Harry. She sets the jar on the bedside table and turns back to her now alert girlfriend. “What did I say, baby, close your eyes.”

“Sorry, Lou,” Harry says softly, letting her eyelids flutter closed. 

Louis pauses for a moment to drink her in, still beautiful despite the streaks of mascara everywhere, before gently smoothing some of the balm onto Harry’s cheeks. 

“You don’t need very much,” Harry murmurs, lightly running her hands along Louis’ skin below the tank top she’s wearing under a hoodie. 

Now that’s she’s sitting atop her own personal furnace, the hoodie doesn’t really seem necessary so Louis awkwardly tugs at it until Harry picks up on what she’s trying to do and helps ease it off, eyes still closed. Getting the sleeves off is the only tricky bit since Louis curled her hands into fists to keep the balm from getting on the sweatshirt, but they manage it.

“Thank you, baby,” Louis says, leaning in to kiss her nose before dabbing a bit of balm onto it. “Now, hold still.”

Louis leans closer, dabbing the rest of the balm across Harry’s lovely face, on her forehead, her cheeks and her chin. She starts massaging it into Harry’s soft skin, trying but probably failing to make sure it’s evenly applied. She’s concentrating so hard that it takes longer than it should for her to notice how charged the moment has become. Harry is scarcely breathing below her, biting her bottom lip with her bunny teeth and clutching Louis’ hips.

This isn’t what Louis expected when she’d found Harry in their bed, half asleep with unintentional smoky eyes, and she takes a beat to herself to appreciate the ways they can still surprise each other before reaching for a tissue. 

Time to see where this goes.

“Stay still, baby,” she murmurs, closer to Harry’s ear than Harry expected, judging by the way her grip tightens on Louis’ skin. “Be good for me.”

Harry parts her lips and takes a few shallow breaths as Louis admires the teeth marks on the dark pink skin of her bottom lip. She stays absolutely still as instructed, except for her hands, which she inches closer to Louis’ ass. Louis chuckles as she starts to wipe the balm from Harry’s forehead and shifts back in Harry’s lap, silently encouraging her. Harry moves her blessedly large hands farther down, gripping Louis’ cheeks and pulling her forward so there’s almost no space between them. It makes Louis’ job a little harder, but she can make do, twisting to grab another tissue and carefully wipe around Harry’s eyes. 

Distracted as she is by the heat stirring between them, Louis still notices that the cleansing balm does its job pretty well. She’s managed to get all of the black mascara residue from Harry’s face, and the rest of the tissues show traces of Harry’s foundation. No, bb cream, Louis corrects herself, remembering the times Harry has corrected her. She does one last careful sweep of Harry’s skin with another tissue and sits back as much as she can with Harry’s hands holding her firmly in place.

“All done,” she announces, tossing the tissue onto the nightstand with the others. “You can open your eyes now.”

Harry blinks a few times and Louis starts to worry that she got some of the balm in her eyes. 

“Lou,” Harry says, her usually deep voice even lower from several minutes of disuse. Or, more likely, something else: when their eyes meet, Louis’ worry fizzles out. She knows exactly what it means when she sees only the thinnest ring of green around Harry’s blown pupils.

“You sure, baby?” she teases, running a fingertip along the skin below the open neck of Harry’s shirt. “You were so tired.”

“I’m sure,” Harry insists, running her hands up to stroke Louis’ skin before slipping them inside her joggers and underneath her underwear to squeeze Louis’ fleshy cheeks. “Please? I was good.”

“You were,” Louis agrees, slowly undoing the buttons on Harry’s flannel. “Always so good for me.”

Harry takes that as the assent Louis intended and sits up, pulling Louis toward her to mouth at a nipple through her thin tank top. Louis doesn’t bother smothering her moan, wanting Harry to know how exactly how good she’s making her feel, as she lifts a hand to cup the back of Harry’s head, keeping her in place. Before her head is too fuzzy with pleasure to think, she lifts her other hand to gently pull out the hair tie holding Harry’s curls up haphazardly so she can tug at them just the way Harry likes. 

Not yet, though. Louis wants her to work for it, wants her desperate for it.

Harry gives one last lingering suck to Louis’ nipple below the fabric, flicking her eyes up to Louis’ face and giving her a crooked grin. Louis guides her head to her other nipple and Harry goes eagerly, lapping at the hardened nub as it draws impossibly tighter. Harry slowly moves her hands up Louis’ sides to cup her breasts below the fabric, and that’s when Louis decides she deserves it, so she gently pulls Harry’s hair, drawing a loud moan around her nipple. 

Just when the damp fabric is starting to cling uncomfortably to Louis’ skin, Harry draws back and pulls the tank top up and off of her. Louis can’t help grinding down in her lap as Harry dives back in, mouth on one bare breast and hand on the other, licking and sucking and caressing her nipples until all Louis can think about is how wet she is and how she needs Harry to fuck her. Hard.

She sits back and takes in the debauched sight in front of her, Harry’s eyes frenzied and her hair wild, her shirt falling open to reveal her frankly glorious tits heaving as she pants, but sits still, content to let Louis take lead. Louis runs her fingertips along Harry’s bottom lip before gently thrusting two fingers inside her mouth, buying herself time to think as Harry tilts her head back, eyes closed. She wraps her lips around Louis’ fingers, making a show of sucking them farther into her mouth.

A show. That’s it.

“Baby,” she says firmly, carefully drawing her fingers from Harry’s mouth and shuffling off her lap. She settles on the mattress next to Harry as she whines, opening her eyes and looking to Louis, crestfallen. “Sh, it’s alright.”

“But I–”

“I want you to touch yourself for me,” Louis interrupts, delighting in the soft blush that blooms on Harry’s cheeks at the words. “Do you like that idea, baby? Want to put on a show for me?”

“Yes,” Harry hisses, squirming on the bed. “Yes, _please._ _Yes.”_

Needing no further encouragement, she hastily slips off her sensible underwear and lets her legs fall open as she lies back against the pillow. Louis’ eyes follow Harry’s hand as it travels slowly down her long torso past the laurel tattoos, over the patch of dark hair, down to the glistening pink folds between her legs. Fuck, Harry makes her feel so  _ sexy, _ getting that wet just from having Louis in her lap and her mouth on her boobs. It’s never not going to seem crazy to her, when  _ Harry’s _ the sexy one, arching her back and writhing as her fingers reach her clit. Louis’ mouth actually waters, her eyes glued to the slick, dark pink nub and Harry’s fingertips flying over it.

Fuck.

Harry bucks her hips up, in search of the pressure she needs for release, her head thrown back as her moans grow wanton. Louis bites her lip at the sight of Harry’s shirt falling off her shoulders, exposing the blush that spread to her chest, above her ample breasts. The supple flesh undulates as Harry moves, capped by her rosy pink nipples drawn tight in the cool air. Just as Louis is about to crack – stop the show, or join it rather, and wrap her lips around one of them – Harry draws her other hand from where it had been grasping the sheets to pinch a nipple, harder than Louis would have, moaning low in her throat at the sensation. 

Louis only realizes that she gasped at the sight when Harry opens her eyes, locking them with hers, and smirks, slowing her fingers to lazily stroke her folds as she spreads her legs farther apart. She toys with her nipple for a moment, barely tweaking it, before sticking her tongue out and lifting her hand to wet her fingertips. This is what Louis is going to think of every time Harry sticks her tongue out before taking a bite of food for a week, and Harry knows it, the little minx. 

God, Louis is so lucky. 

The air is heady around them as Harry teases herself, the soft glow of the lamps warming her skin. Louis’ eyes rove over Harry’s body, unable to take everything in. Her curls are spread out like a halo around her and her angelic face twists in ecstasy as her movements gradually become faster. A steady stream of moans and gasps escapes her slack pink lips. She keeps her back arched, her fingers clamped around her taut nipple. A slight sheen of sweat covers her skin, making her stark black tattoos glow. Her thighs are quivering as she lifts her hips to meet her fingers, fucking herself hard. Suddenly Harry moves her hand from her breast to her hair, tugging hard near her scalp as her legs close together, and a guttural moan fills the room as she comes. 

Harry’s hands still, her eyes closed, and she bites her lip as she lifts her hips again, riding out the aftershocks. Louis watches, waiting for her signal, admiring her girlfriend’s lithe body, practically melted into the sheets. It only takes a minute before Harry opens her eyes and raises her eyebrows hopefully.

“Yeah, baby?” Louis murmurs, shifting to sit on her haunches between Harry’s legs. “Not too sensitive?”

“Lou,” Harry whines, drawing the syllable out. She spreads her legs wider and pouts. “You know that’s why I want it.”

Yes, Louis does know. It hadn’t taken much experimenting when they got together to figure out overstimulation was… well, it’s not a kink really, Louis doesn’t think. A real  _ thing _ for Harry. Louis doesn’t get off on it much herself, but she loves the way Harry gets off on it, and she’s more than happy to give this to her tonight.

“Hang on,” Louis says, realizing she’s a bit overdressed. She starts to slide her joggers and underwear down, sitting on her bottom so she can just lift her hips to remove them. “Wanna be naked when I fuck you, baby.”

Harry’s eyes, somehow even darker than before, follow her movements. Lifting her head off the pillow, she watches as Louis throws the clothes on the floor and settles between her legs. Louis knows that Harry’s aching to be touched, already eager to come again, but she can’t resist drawing this out, just a bit. She drops a soft kiss to Harry’s knee, moving to leave a trail of kisses along Harry’s thigh. Making her way down a leisurely path, she stops to suck a mark halfway to her destination. Harry’s head falls back on the pillow with a huff and she squirms on the bed. Louis keeps her pace steady, knowing from experience Harry will still hiss with pleasure when Louis finally gets her mouth on her. 

When the familiar, tangy scent of Harry’s come fills her senses, Louis can’t wait anymore, suddenly the impatient one. She traces Harry’s clit with the tip of her tongue, reveling in the hiss Harry lets out as she starts to pull away before pushing back toward Louis’ mouth. 

They don’t always reach this frenzied point, when they forget to think, acting entirely on instinct. Sometimes they’re slow, every part drawn out and deliberate. Sometimes they just need a quick, routine fuck to get through their week. But sometimes they’re wild, desperate to satisfy the need, the almost primal urges, that they bring out in each other. Louis  _ loves _ it, loves letting go and getting out of her head like this. It would be overwhelming if she didn’t feel so safe with Harry. If Harry wasn’t her home. 

She lets her mouth go slack as Harry thrusts toward her, closing her lips over as much of Harry’s pussy as she can before sucking on her clit. She moans along with Harry as she flattens her tongue, letting Harry control her movements, riding Louis’ face. It doesn’t take long before Harry stills, crying out as she comes in Louis’ mouth. 

Louis peppers kisses on the soft swell of Harry’s tummy as she comes down from her second orgasm. It’s when she starts to laugh, wriggling around below Louis’ lips, that Louis knows it’s time to crawl up her lanky body and kiss her properly for the first time since they got in bed. Harry’s dark pink lips are parted, so Louis slips her tongue in immediately. Harry moans at the taste of herself on Louis’ tongue, pulling her closer with a hand on the back of Louis’ neck and licking in her mouth like she can’t get enough. 

They stay that way for what feels like hours, wrapped up in each other, frantic with the need to be close, close,  _ closer. _ Harry pulls a hand back from where it had been glued to Louis’ ass to give her a swift smack. The jolt makes her cry out, drawing back for a moment before diving back in to nip at Harry’s plush bottom lip. It’s Harry’s turn to cry out, and Louis swallows the sound, thrusting her tongue back into Harry’s mouth, massaging it against hers. They’ve been kissing for so long that the taste of Harry has almost faded from Louis’ lips. Almost.

As Harry moves to mouth at Louis’ neck, sucking hard in an obvious attempt to give her a hickey, Louis remembers how earlier she’d thought Harry was too tired for anything other than cuddles. And now it seems like she might up for round three. She’s about to bite her lip to smother a laugh, not wanting to cause a pout because what Harry’s doing to her neck feels so good, when Harry slips a finger in Louis’ wet folds. As Louis gasps, Harry slides her finger inside Louis, curling it to rub in exactly the right place.

Louis writhes on top of Harry, burying her face in her neck and whimpering as Harry takes her right to the edge. This is exactly what she wanted, has wanted since Harry first touched her, and seeing Harry come twice – once by herself, once because of Louis – has only intensified the desire. She’s practically dripping wet, the sounds of Harry’s finger stroking inside her loud enough to reach the blood rushing in her ears. 

Harry slides her finger out of Louis, and before she has time to protest, Harry’s flipped their positions on the bed. Hovering over her, Harry grins crookedly and then smacks a kiss to her lips before shuffling down her body. Louis grasps at the sheets around her, sure that she’ll need something to hold onto as Harry finally fucks an orgasm out of her. 

Of course, now that Louis expects to come, Harry slows down, teasing her tongue along Louis’ folds. The tip of her nose nudges Louis’ clit, maybe by accident but, as she cries out at the sensation, Louis thinks probably on purpose. Harry kisses the inside of her thigh and Louis wants to cry; everything feels so good, but it’s not nearly enough. Just as she’s about to take matters into her own hand – forget putting on a show, she just needs to  _ come _ – Harry gently slips two fingers inside of her, easily stroking in and out what with how wet she is. 

Louis wails, throwing her head back and trying to inch closer to Harry on the bed. Without even thinking, she moves a hand to Harry’s hair, tangling her fingers in the long curls at the exact moment her tongue dances over Louis’ clit. She tugs on her hair just hard enough to make Harry moan against her as she pulses her curled fingers over Louis’ spot. The dual sensation has Louis coming so hard that her vision whites out, the waves of pleasure crashing over her so intense that she loses herself for a few minutes, completely given over to it.

When she comes back to herself, lying bonelessly on the bed, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, she sees Harry wiping her mouth and chin with the back of her hand, looking enormously pleased with herself. 

“It’s been awhile since you squirted, Lou,” she says lowly, cocky grin spreading across her face. 

Louis laughs, grabbing the corner of her pillow to throw in Harry’s face but she’s too quick, pouncing on Louis and holding her wrists against the mattress.

Louis quirks an eyebrow. “Again?”

Harry leans down to give her a slow, lingering kiss and Louis practically purrs at the taste of herself on Harry’s lips. It satisfies another kind of primal urge in her chest, the possessive part of her happy to have marked Harry as her own with her scent. God, Louis such a caveman. As if Harry has ever had eyes for anyone else since they literally bumped into each other’s lives in a bathroom ten years ago. 

“Come on, Lou,” Harry says, drawing back with a shit-eating grin. “Up, up, up. You have to get ready for bed.”

Louis squawks indignantly at Harry throwing her words back at her, grabbing her pillow and successfully bopping her lightly on the head before she lets Harry tug her up and out of bed. They make quick work of getting ready in the bathroom, washing their hands and faces and brushing their teeth. Harry hums a tune around her toothbrush, one that Louis can’t quite make out as she watches Harry wiggle around to it next to her. 

Once they’re back in the bedroom, Harry slips under the covers on her side of the bed, content to sleep naked. Louis shakes her head fondly, pulling on a clean pair of underwear and a tank top. She dashes out to the living room, narrowly avoiding bumping into the corner of the coffee table in the dark, and grabs their forgotten phones to plug in by their bedside tables. 

“Lou,” Harry murmurs half against her pillow as she watches Louis set her phone down and switch off the lamp. “You’re the best.”

“Simply the best?” Louis can’t help asking as she gets in bed, snuggling up next to Harry in the dark and dropping a kiss to the nape of her neck.

Harry hums again and this time Louis recognizes the tune, the familiar melody slowed down, soothing.

“I call you when I need you,” Harry sings softly, squeezing the hand Louis settled on her tummy. “My heart’s on fire.”

Louis nuzzles into Harry’s neck, hiding the blush on her face Harry wouldn’t even be able to see in the dark. The way Harry loves her still leaves her stunned sometimes, in awe, even though she feels the same way.

“You come to me,” Harry continues, her velvety voice lilting. “Come to me wild and wired…”

“Think you’ve got it backwards, baby,” Louis whispers, hugging Harry closer to her. “You come to me wild and wired, it’s you. You’re the best.”

“You,” Harry protests sleepily. “You’re the best.”

Louis burrows into Harry, somehow drawing their bodies even closer. “You.”

“Then we both are,” Harry sighs contentedly. “The best.”

Louis revels in Harry’s soft skin pressed against her, the heat emanating from her body. The feel of home. Together, she thinks. Together, they’re the best. She presses one last kiss for the night to Harry’s hair, murmuring her agreement.

“Simply.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [ fic post](https://disgruntledkittenface.tumblr.com/post/188416791097/come-to-me-wild-and-wired-by)


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